


Sugar Sweet

by OneThousandAngels



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Damsels in Distress, Fear, Fluff, Horror, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneThousandAngels/pseuds/OneThousandAngels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the song Sugar by Maroon 5 (stop laughing)</p><p>Miles won't leave the asylum without Waylon, but Eddie and Chris keep getting in the way, and in the end that doesn't turn out to be such a bad thing. </p><p>I'm going to try to focus on Chris/Miles as much as possible in this fic, but so far the split between that and Eddie/Waylon is pretty 50/50. This is where I'm gonna put all my cute and my fluff and my romance, but I'm predominantly just writing what I want which probably means angst, sex, kink, cuteness, and violence.</p><p>Right now it is rated Explicit, but there's nothing particularly Explicit yet. However, I can't seem to write anything without severely graphic, disgusting filth so it'll definitely come (and so will they haha).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Broken Down

God, he felt like such a coward. At this point any heroic ideals he’d had about _anything _had far gone out the window. All he wanted to do was get _out_ and _now_ before he encountered anything worse than a few scratches, bruises, and close encounters with his own mortality. __

____

____

Objectives: get in, find Waylon Park, and get their sorry asses out of there with enough evidence to permanently erase Murkoff from the map. But despite his best efforts, and after spending much longer in Mount Massive Asylum than he’d intended to, he still hadn’t seen any trace of Waylon, not the man himself nor any clues or even a body to hint at the fact that he’d ever even existed outside of the email Miles had from him sitting at home on his computer. 

But of course now that he’d finally, finally found a way to escape this godforsaken hell hole, he’d seen him. In order to be able to find him once he got here he’d stalked the shit out of his internet presence, everything from dorky Youtube videos giving instructions on how to debug your computer to the selfies that littered his Facebook profile. He’d recognize that stupid adorable face anywhere. What did a cute little nerd like him think he was doing getting himself mixed up in this business in the first place? And of course now, as Miles was on his way out, finally having found the light at the end of the tunnel, there he was sprinting by him trying to escape from some psychopath.

And so, sweet Jesus…he’d followed them. Like the self-righteous, soft hearted idiot he was, he’d followed Waylon Park and the absurdly well-dressed muscle head chasing him right into the female ward. At the very least he managed not to be seen by either of them, and now he was watching from an air duct as Waylon’s limp, naked, and unconscious body was strapped down to a buzzsaw table. The expression on his face was sweet and peaceful, god, he could have been sleeping comfortably in his bed at home for all he was aware. He wondered if he was dreaming he was some place else, maybe interpreting the groom’s manhandling as the gentle nudging of his nagging kids. He knew he had two sons. 

Part of Miles wondered if he shouldn’t just let him die this way…unconscious, unafraid, unaware of what was about to happen to him. If whatever drug in his system could last just a few minutes more he would have the least horrific death of any person in this place, that was guaranteed, but if he dragged him out of there and tried to save his life then he might just end up dumping him into some other unimaginable hell to die the kind of death he would only wish on guys like Jeremy Blaire. But those damn kids of his…the younger of the two the clear spitting image of his father.

He watched with a sad, conflicted look in his eyes as the groom adjusted his bride’s position with the utmost care, jarring him just slightly and causing his head to loll gently back and forth. He couldn’t have been more vulnerable, but even as he slept Eddie paused to brush a few stray locks of hair tenderly from his forehead. A more innocent man, one that hadn’t been exposed to the horrors at Mount Massive, might have thought that just maybe Waylon was in better hands than he thought, or at the very least that the groom could be reasoned with. But Miles had far left behind any naivety of that sort. The most disturbing thing about the situation was the very fact that the man actually thought he was in love, that he _was_ taking care of Waylon. Any interference on his part would surely be interpreted in his frantic mind as an attempt to separate them and nothing more. 

As soon as he disappeared from Miles’ view and he could hear Eddie off in the distance dismembering some other poor unfortunate soul, he made his move, knowing it would likely be the only chance he would get. With all the agility and stealth of someone that had been getting himself into these kinds of situations for years he slipped from the air duct, hanging from the edge of the metal by his fingertips until he was only a foot or two off the ground and then he let go, dropping to the dirty, wood floor with a nearly inaudible thump. He hurried to Waylon’s side, his eyes darting back and forth as he searched for anything at all he might be able to use to cut the young man free. There was no chance of untying it, not when he’d already seen the groom pull the rope so tight that it now looked like it was starting to cut off the circulation to his hands and feet. Littered on the ground were several discarded, worn out saw blades…they would have to do. It would get the job done anyway, and hopefully without maiming any of the little nerd’s extremities. 

He rubbed the dull blade back and forth as fast as he could against the rope, fraying it until he could easily rip it apart the last threads that remained with his fingers. He had gotten all but his left foot free when he heard shouting in the distance. 

“Get back here you slut!”

Nearly hyperventilating with fear, he quickly tore through the rope with the old saw blade, pushing hard and tearing the blade across it back and forth as quickly as he could. It was a very awkward position to be in; holding the metal so that it would cut effectively while also not letting Waylon bleed out…sure, maybe he’d nicked him here and there but it wasn’t that bad, he’d live. Probably. Unless it got infected. But hey, it was the best he could do under the circumstances. He whimpered softly under his breath as heavy footsteps steadily made their way closer, finally letting out a gasp as the rope snapped and fell away, allowing the blade to briefly slip just slightly into the soft skin of Waylon’s ankle. Ouch, that was gonna sting. 

“Darling…” he heard Eddie call through the doorless entryway leading in from the next room over. “I do hope you’re ready for me, not sleeping the whole day away…”

He wanted to be quiet so as not to raise suspicion, but god, he had no choice, he _had_ to pick him up and book it out of there and he had to do it now, no if’s, and’s, or but’s. Keeping the shuffles and grunts to a minimum, he wrapped his arms around Waylon’s naked body and hoisted him over his shoulder like the sack of potatoes he might as well have been for all the work he was doing not to get them both killed. Jesus christ, Waylon…and maybe lay off on the doritos. 

Someone up there, probably not Father Martin’s god, but _someone_ wanted them to get out of this alive because for all the commotion he made during his escape the groom continued yammering on as if him and Waylon were having a conversation, right up until he looked into the room to admire his beloved and he was gone. Baffled, infuriated, and admittedly worried for his darling’s safety, he stormed off, knife in hand, to rescue his bride, or drag her back kicking and screaming, whichever proved necessary. But no need to go on splitting hairs. 

Miles, however, really wasn’t the muscular type…he was strong, but he wasn’t exactly a linebacker. The best he could do for now was to shove himself and Waylon into the nearest locker, clutch his body to him, and clamp his hand over his mouth tightly just in case he should decide to wake up precisely at that moment. Naturally, because Waylon was the single person most apt to get into trouble that Miles had ever met, began to stir just moments after Eddie ran off passed them shouting for his darling, stirring as if in response to his groom's calls. Holding Waylon’s back flat against his chest while simultaneously restraining him, keeping him silent, and holding up his weight was proving no easy task as he regained consciousness more steadily and began to moan and struggle. 

“Waylon! Waylon, Waylon, it’s Miles, Miles Upshur…Miles Upshur,” he hissed against his ear. Waylon started at the feeling of Miles’ lips, his hot breath, and abruptly in addition to that, the awareness that he was very naked. Somehow this convinced him, thank god, to immediately cease struggling and go silent. Miles sighed a breath of relief. 

“Now be quiet…the groom isn’t going to give up on you so easily…just wait…a little longer…”

Waylon nodded just slightly and so Miles took his hand off of his mouth and wrapped his arm around his torso, joining the other around his waist. Even though he was holding up his own weight for the most part now, though he was a tad weak from shock and drug-induced grogginess, there wasn’t much choice other than to put his arms around him in the cramped space. As the moments ticked by, the silence and the intimate closeness became somehow gradually more…awkward, although neither of them spoke. It was just palpable, the knowledge that they were both very aware of the fact that Miles’ crotch was planted firmly against Waylon’s cute little ass. Maybe they both knew that the other knew because of the occasional restless fidgeting from the other, or maybe it was the uncomfortable clearing of the throat that occurred now and again, but either way by the time Miles said that it was probably safe to exit the locker they both did so feeling a little horny, slightly violated, and much more well acquainted. On the bright side however, they both counted themselves lucky for the fact that such circumstances made it nearly impossible to get a boner. Or at least, that’s what they’d thought at the time.

They each stepped out from the locker as quietly as they could and then turned to look at one another with a bit of redness about the cheeks. Waylon’s adorable self looked Miles up and down, quickly looked away, and then crossed his arm over his chest like a child that’d been told to go to the timeout corner. 

“….uh…thank you? I think?” he muttered “How….how did I…”

“The groom.” Miles said as he cleared his throat softly and took off the jacket he wore over his t-shirt. “Do you…uh…?” He offered it to him. Waylon glanced at him bashfully, nodded, and took the jacket then tied it around his waist as he blushed like a school girl who’d just had her period leak through her skirt. He only just barely remembered his encounter with the groom, or more accurately, their encounter had been brief but terrifyingly vivid. It was just cruel that someone that hot and outwardly kind could be so crazy and bloodthirsty underneath. It was terrifying, actually, because he was all the more deadly for it. Waylon, not knowing what he did now, would have trusted him in an instant….because Eddie wasn’t lying. He was genuine, and while Waylon thought he would have been able to see through a phony exterior, detecting the falsehood of Eddie’s own tragic delusion was another challenge altogether. 

“So…you saved me,” he realized. “…thank you.” He looked up at Miles earnestly and for a moment Miles was terrified Waylon would cry, but of course he was tougher than he looked, wasn’t he? “…thank you so much…” Miles nodded curtly and ruffled his hair then started off again. They weren’t safe yet. 

But before they could get anywhere or even think about what direction to head in they both heard something that made their blood run cold. 

“Darling…is that you? You can’t hide from me, love, I know all your little secrets already, don’t I…” 

There was no time to think. There wouldn’t be time to get in the locker, by the time they crammed themselves both inside he would hear the door shut and they would both be killed. Waylon reacted first, to Miles’ surprise and intense admiration. Waylon shoved Miles towards the locker and ran towards the sound of Eddie’s sugary sweet baritone. 

“I…I’m over here!” Waylon stuttered as playfully as he could muster while Miles listened on in horror, “C-catch me if you can…darling!” He added before taking off away from the locker at a sprint. Miles quickly hid in the locker, lingering there for just a moment or two so there wouldn’t be any risk of Eddie seeing him as they passed just up ahead, but he quickly exited again, not as concerned about being seen as he should have been. Frankly, the risk wasn’t very great, not while every ounce of Eddie’s fervent attention was focused on Waylon.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. “Stupid, brave idiot…” 

He shimmied into the nearest air duct he could reach and began his trek through the ceiling of the asylum, listening for the sound of Eddie or Waylon’s voice…or scream…but before he got too far, just after a minute or two, he heard the horrible squeak of tearing metal and suddenly he was falling through the ceiling. He landed with a disastrously loud bang and tumbled onto the desk below, rolling immediately from it onto the floor with a thud. He groaned loudly and rolled onto his back, grabbing the arm he’d landed on as his face contorted in pain. He panted but didn’t rise, giving himself a moment to catch his breath and try to figure out how badly he’d hurt his arm.

“Little pig, little pig…” growled a deep voice from the hallway. 

Miles eyes flew up in terror. He looked to the ceiling where he’d fallen from, but there was no hope of escape from that route, and the only door in the room would lead him straight into Chris’s lap. The only choice he had was to scramble behind the desk he’d just fallen on and pray to god that Chris didn’t find him…somehow, please, anything Chris Walker…

Hardly a second after he’d tucked his leg behind the desk, the door flew open and smashed thunderously against the wall. Miles could just barely see him as his cameoed tree trunks stomped confidently into the room through a crack in the wood of the desk, likely splintered as a result of his fall. If he had any luck at all Chris would not look behind it, would simply assume that he had misheard, that it was the next room over, the next hallway over, the next _state_ …

For longer than even seemed reasonable he cowered while Chris towered there in the center of the room, Miles’ hands clamped tightly over his mouth to keep himself from whimpering or breathing too heavily. At that moment he had never been so scared in his entire life. He’d seen Chris before. He’d watched him, not even an hour before, pick up a variant, grab them by the shoulders, and easily tear them in half with his bare hands. Admittedly under any other circumstance if he saw a guy with that many muscles or something even remotely resembling Chris’s physique in his own gayborhood he would have climbed it like a tree, but after the number of people he’d watched him kill seemingly at random? He was strong, he was _smart_ , and he had an unusually keen scent of smell that was frankly pretty disturbing. He was absolutely the last person Miles wanted to be in the same room with and right now his heart was beating fast enough to fly out of his mouth.

Finally he heard Chris make a noise, he couldn’t be, was it a laugh? And then he turned on his heel and left the room, going back the way he came, just like that. Miles refused to move for at least a solid minute then he stood and snuck into the hall…no sign of Chris. 

He jumped straight out of his skin when he felt someone grab a handful of the back of his shirt. 

“You thought you could hide from me?” growled Chris’s rumbling voice. 

Miles let out a terrified, strangled cry that he hoped he would never have to hear himself make again and instinctively dropped to his knees, squirming and fighting as he tore himself from the unusually pristine white t-shirt he’d had hidden under his jacket until recently. He freed himself from it in an instant and then bolted, gasping desperately for air and powered almost entirely by adrenaline. He could hear Chris running after him and he was fast, fast for a big guy, fast for anyone, but Miles was faster. He tore around the corner at a sprint and once he thought he’d put enough distance in between them he skidded into the nearest locker and closed the door. He could hear his own rattling gasps of breath, could hear the soft, high-pitched sounds of fear in between them, and tried frantically to catch his breath enough to quiet himself. The room he was in was large and contained several other variants just insane enough to have zero awareness of anything that was happening. As disgusted with himself as he was for even thinking it, now that he was hidden he couldn’t help but be relieved for their presence; it would distract Chris enough that he might not find him. He might even get a chance to escape while he was ripping their heads off. 

He’d hardly been in the locker for three whole seconds when Chris stormed into the room. His eyes scanned the room for his prey and didn’t find it, but that wasn’t such a problem. He had other work to do after all. Miles bit his lip and pressed his trembling hands over his mouth as he watched Chris grab the nearest variant by the head and slam it repeatedly into the wall until there was hardly anything left of it but a red smear across the cement. It took him a while to get through all of them, but less time than if any of them had tried to escape. None of them did; they were too far gone. But no, the last man finally seemed to come to his senses when all the others were dead. He tried to run, screaming like the lunatic he was, but Chris caught him mercilessly by the throat and threw him to the ground. He began crawling away, but he didn’t get far before Chris stomped on his head, caving it in like a piece of old fruit. Miles’s very center quivered and for one horror-stricken moment he felt like he had to urinate, or perhaps like he was going to faint, or both. Barely keeping it together he watched with wide eyes as Chris simply stalked out of the room. Maybe outside the asylum he had been an upstanding marine, perhaps a lady’s man, a charming young lad with the kind of blue eyes that made people fall in love and a handsome face to match, but _inside_ the asylum… he was the angel of death. 

It took him a good fifteen minutes of silence and deep breathing before his legs felt sturdy enough to walk on, but it would be a while longer before he could gain any kind of sense of bravery or confidence back, at least the kind he needed for rescuing damsels in distress. 

Poor Waylon…he hoped he was okay.

 

——————

 

A few long hours later Miles found them and almost immediately he knew that he was going to die today.

He was just entering a long hallway spattered with blood, blood which was then used to write the words, “Welcome home”, across the wall like a plaque an old biddy might buy at a craft show, when he saw a hulking frame in the dark wearing incredibly well-tailored pants. He turned the night vision on on his camcorder and saw that it was in fact Eddie, but he didn’t bother hiding because almost instantly he saw that Waylon was with him, pressed back against the wall as he cowered underneath him. He was wearing a wedding dress…but it was him alright. Eddie had his arms caged around him, each hand planted on the wall beside his head and there was no way Waylon could escape him. Even if he could somehow duck out from his arms and was fast enough to slip away, the other end of the hallway was a dead end. Luck was not on his side.

That left Miles only one option. He slunk towards them stealthily until he was close enough to be within throwing distance then he grabbed a piece of debris off the floor and chucked it at the broad surface of Eddie’s back.

“Hey, douchebag, get the fuck off him! Pick on someone your own size, like a bulldoz-“ he didn’t finish his taunt before Eddie was running after him, yelling obscenities.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU SHIT,” he snarled as Miles bolted back down the hall. He ran until he felt like his lunges would burst, but Eddie was faster than he’d expected. He was faster than Chris, and jesus christ, what the hell did he do to piss him off this bad?

He darted into a room and ran through another door, but Eddie was almost within arm’s length. Collapsing from exhaustion was not an option, but neither was hiding. He turned the corner into another long hallway, but realized almost immediately that there were no doors unblocked to escape through and at the end there was a mountain of debris blocking the doorway, over which hung an exceedingly ironic, fully functional EXIT sign, beckoning him to his death. He’d finally reached the end of the line and he was done running. 

With no choice but to turn back he spun around, but he knew there was no way he’d have enough time to run back and find another route. He didn’t even have enough time to process that he was about to die before he found himself staring into Eddie’s red and blue eyes. It was all he could do just to throw his arms over his head as the glimmer of a blade flew through the air towards him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that Waylon was screaming, and then he closed his eyes. 

His body flew back onto the ground hard, but there wasn’t any pain at least not at the level he’d expected. He lowered his arms and looked up in shock to see a flurry of cameo. Dumbstruck, he couldn’t even stand, couldn’t even understand why he wasn’t dead. Chris threw a punch and it collided with Eddie’s face as he let out a grunt of surprise and pain. His knife clattered to the ground and he was sent stumbling backwards several feet, but Miles was impressed that Eddie was even still standing…but more importantly what the _fuck_ was Chris doing? One of the doors in the hall had been busted straight off its hinges and he deduced that Chris must have come out of no where and stepped between them at precisely the right moment. Could his luck really be that good? Maybe he was finally cashing in on all the good luck he’d never had in his entire life up until this point.

Apparently stress hadn’t taken enough years off of his life so far and so as he watched Waylon gathered his skirts and ran towards the battling giants, finally prompting Miles to get to his feet. If he was putting himself in harms way again for his sake then he had to get himself out of here before Waylon did something else incredibly stupid.

“Don’t hurt him! Stop, stop!” he shrieked, but he wasn’t looking at Miles, he was looking at Chris and Eddie as they paused to square each other up and catch their breath. Eddie had been able to get enough of an advantage that he had grabbed his knife again and by now Chris had received several notably large cuts on his arms, hands, and torso, but it was hard to see through all the dirt and blood to tell how bad the injuries actually were on either of them. Neither of them seemed to feel it was a good idea to continue fighting, but it was a tricky situation for either of them to be the first to back off. 

“Waylon, get away!” Miles yelled, trying to bring him back to his senses. “What the hell are you doing, run!” 

Waylon glanced at him with the frantic look of a cornered animal, and yet he could have sworn it looked like he was trying to communicate an apology. Waylon knew Eddie would probably be the death of him, but whether it was pity, stupidity, or insanity, he couldn’t stop himself from what he was about to do. He suddenly ran in and grabbed Eddie’s arm. Miles thought at first that he was going for his knife like the fucking survival-instinct lacking idiot he was, but he didn’t, and the next thing he knew Eddie was backing away from his opponent. He put one arm in front of Waylon as he edged back down the hall a few yards then he turned, grabbed Waylon, and threw him over his shoulder effortlessly as Waylon let out a yelp of surprise. Eddie hurried off without another word or a glance in Miles’ direction, but as he turned around and him and Waylon made eye contact he began to shout.

“Wait, wait, no! Miles! Miles!” They disappeared around the corner and his voice faded as he heard him yell, “We have to go back! Miles…!” 

At this point he didn’t know if he was more terrified for Waylon or for himself. He’d narrowly avoided one disaster, but he was still backed into a corner and had literally no means of defending himself. He eyed Chris cautiously and waited for him to make a move. Chris turned his head to look over his shoulder at Miles and examine him as he caught his breath before he turned around and took a step towards him. Miles scurried backwards and pressed into the rubble wide eyed and breathless, scared out of his mind. Chris lifted his arm up and Miles flinched, but he simply rubbed some of the blood and dirt off his face. 

With that Chris turned and began walking away. 

Miles stared after him in complete shock. What the hell just happened? 

He waited until Chris was out of sight and then, carefully identifying a solid escape plan on his way, followed him back down the hall at a distance. He kept enough space between them that he didn’t think he would know he was there if he kept quiet and watched as Chris went into a small side room, leaned against the wall, and slid down it onto the floor. He peeked in at him as Chris closed his eyes and just sat there, breathing heavily and clutching his side in pain. He was much less scary when he seemed like he could hardly even move, Miles had to admit. He let down his guard just a little bit as he crouched down in the hall and watched him around the edge of the door frame. A few minutes passed, but he didn’t do anything at all, didn’t even open his eyes or try to get up.

He crouched down and edged over to him on his hands and feet like a gorilla, prepared to jump up and bolt at the first sign of trouble. When he was but a few feet away Chris opened one eye just enough to look at him, making Miles freeze in place. Chris glanced him over, determined that he was no threat, and opened the other eye to continue appraising him. For a long moment they just stared cautiously at one another, but Miles’ was never the most patient person so it didn’t take long for him to move closer and kneel directly beside him, docile as a house cat. 

“Did you save me on purpose?” 

“Yep,” Chris muttered and turned his head to the side to look at him. Miles narrowed his eyes at him skeptically. Honestly he was surprised that he even answered him, he didn’t seem like the talkative type, and said ‘yep’, literally just ‘yep’, like any normal person would.

“…why?” he interrogated, watching closely for any signs of bullshit. 

“Cause you’re not infected.” 

Okay, maybe he was just as nuts as the rest of them, but then again Miles was starting to think he was becoming a little nuts himself, I mean look at him. “Uh…okay…infected with what?”

“The morphogenic engine.” 

Wait, he’d seen something about that in those documents, right? But frankly it hadn’t made a whole lot of sense. 

“So you only hulk smash the people that are infected…the variants.”

Chris nodded slowly. Miles dropped his gaze to Chris’s wounds with a frown. Concern…he was concerned. The guy _had_ just saved his life…these injuries were his fault.

“Are you…alright? How bad is it?” he questioned softly, hesitant to examine him further, but clearly itching to. Not even an hour ago this guy was enemy number one. He’d nearly pissed himself due to his proximity, and it was going to take him a little time to reconcile the fact that he was actually the good guy. Everything in Mount Massive was fucked up and backwards though…maybe he shouldn’t have been so surprised after all. 

“Pretty bad…had worse though. I’ll be fine.” Miles looked into Chris’s eyes; he could still see the awareness there, the sense of intelligence and sanity that so many of the other’s here lacked, and suddenly he wondered why he hadn’t noticed it sooner. He had a kind face and twinkling eyes and the more he looked, well, the more he found to like about him.

He focused his attention on the wounds he’d gotten in the struggle with Eddie. A few gashes on his arms and on his hands, and one large cut on his torso, but nothing too deep for stitches from what his amateur opinion could deduce. He could handle that if Chris would let him. He looked around and sighed. The plumbing worked in most of the building, and there were ways to get water, so he figured it would be alright to use the water in the canteen he’d kept in his back pocket to clean his injuries. If they got infected Chris would have a much larger problem on his hands, one that Miles wouldn’t be able to do anything about. 

“I’m gonna clean ‘em, kay…?” he mumbled as he took out his canteen and unscrewed the top. He reached over and delicately pulled Chris’s sleeveless shirt up over his abs. Jesus…this guy was ripped everywhere, wasn’t he…? He held out his canteen and carefully poured water on the heavily bleeding gash. He paused just for a second and glanced up at Chris who hadn’t made a sound or flinched at all, but just continued to watch him quietly, then he returned to his work. Next he took Chris’s arm gently in his hands and moved it into his lap to rest it on his thigh. He poured water over the blood and grime on and around the cuts on his arm and hand. He glanced up at Chris and stopped when he saw him watching him with a warm smile. Their eyes met and Miles felt himself blushing as he scoffed and continued what he was doing, avoiding his gaze pointedly.

He wished he could wrap them up, maybe with his shirt, but he’d lost that when Chris had grabbed him so it was his own fault. He sighed and scanned him critically. Satisfied, he nodded and looked back up at him. 

“…there. I’d sew ‘em up, but I don’t have a needle or anything, so…”

“Thank you,” Chris said, watching him with a curious eye.

“Yeah, yah know, I’d wrap ‘em up, but you kinda stole my shirt, so.” He glared at him.

Chris laughed. “Yeah. I wanted to talk to you, but you kept running away. I know the way out. Figured you’d wanna know.”

“You…you know how to get out of here? You got this place memorized or something?” he asked incredulously. “Then why are you still here?” 

“Cause I’m infected.”

“…oh,” Miles mumbled awkwardly and turned his gaze downward. He wondered what the morphogenic engine did exactly that was so bad that he wouldn’t leave if he’d been exposed to it. He was a good guy if he was that selfless…honestly Miles figured if he was “infected” himself, he probably would have left anyway. Anything to get out of this place. He glanced back up at him feeling a glimmer of awe that anyone could be kind or good in a place like this. The things Miles did himself didn’t count…they were out of guilt, or other selfish reasons he didn’t care to think about too deeply. But Chris was something else entirely. He never should have ended up here, he could tell that about him already. Even if he did spend his time ripping people in half…hey, cut the guy some slack, it was for a good cause. After the things he’d seen here, cannibalism, people burning alive, guys fucking corpses, it was hard to think that Chris was anything short of a saint in comparison.

“…so you wanted to help me…” he glanced up at him gently. He nodded. That was…that was really sweet. “Look, I…I really, really appreciate that, but I can’t leave until I get Waylon out of here. Everyone in this place owes him a debt…we’re a package deal.” 

Chris stared at him hesitantly. “The bride.” Separating the groom and his bride would not be an easy task. 

“The….yeah…yeah, his name’s Waylon,” he muttered as he plopped his butt on the floor beside Chris and leaned against him casually, their newfound alliance instantly solidified.

“Alright. We can do that.” Chris had a way of making everything sound so simple. Miles was never really able to keep things in perspective that way even before he got involved with the asylum. He liked it. Miles sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He was exhausted. This was the first time he’d been able to rest for even a full minute since he’d gotten here; even when he was hiding he had to be on high alert, ready to bolt at any second, but now he could relax a little. He didn’t totally trust Chris, of course, but…well, he wanted to. And there was a certain security that came with cuddling up to the biggest baddy in the joint. He was willing to sink into the illusion of safety for a little while if he had the chance. Chris didn’t seem to mind. He looked tired, but alert, and he was grateful for the company. If you found any humanity in this place you had to cling to it, that’d been his thought since day one. 

“You can take a break for a while…I’ll keep watch.”

“I…” Miles sighed. “Yeah…yeah, okay. Thanks.” 

Within minutes he was out like a light. 

He panicked a little upon first coming around again, thinking for a moment that he’d passed out or been drugged or something, but as he stared up into Chris’s blue eyes looking down at him worriedly he remembered everything at once in a flood of relief. 

“Jeez!” he cried and set his head back down. He realized quickly that at some point he’d tipped over into Chris’s lap and he had let him stay there. He’d completely slipped down his torso and then flopped over onto his lap, using his left arm as a pillow, and the right arm…his eyes fluttered back open. It was draped over his waist, securely him in place like a seatbelt. Indeed if he hadn’t been Miles would have rolled off onto the floor. Miles had his arms resting around Chris’s one thick forearm like a teddy bear. Thinking about how he must have looked to Chris made him flush with embarrassment. 

“Uh…s..sorry, I didn’t…”

Chris let out a low laugh. “It’s okay. You were too cute, I couldn’t bother you.” Miles cleared his throat, blushing more brightly. Jesus, what was with this guy…he wasn’t supposed to be the one getting all shy and embarrassed, that just wasn’t his thing. 

…that didn’t mean he wanted to give Chris his arm back or anything, but it still wasn’t cool. 

Chris’s massive hand was resting on his chest. He sighed and it rose and fell with the gentle motion before his hand slid up and cupped Miles’ face, his thumb running soothingly over his jaw as his fingers held Miles’ cheek. His eyes widened in surprise and he felt his mouth form something of a pout. 

“He-hey…” He turned his head to glance up at Chris as he chuckled and smirked down at him nonchalantly, but didn’t take his hand away. Miles narrowed his eyes at him, but… he didn’t do anything about it. Yet. But this guy was asking for trouble. 

“I figured I should wait to take advantage of you until you woke up at least…that’d be the gentlemanly thing to do anyway.”

“ALRIGHT BUDDY, that’s it!” He sat up glowering at him, face burning and stomach doing pleasant backflips that he was not happy about _at all_ , but Chris just laughed and laughed. Even his laugh was cute, seriously, _fuck_ this guy. “Hey buddy, have a little respect, we’re up to our asses in tragedy and chaos here.” Damn it, he could feel himself smiling. 

It felt good. For a while he thought he might not have a reason to smile again before this place got the best of him. 

Actually…now that he thought about it, what the fuck was he doing grumping about like an embarrassed school boy with his first crush? He was going to die here, he was fairly certain of that already. Anything he did now was probably going to be one of the last things he ever did, in fact he could die at literally any moment. He could walk down the hallway and get tackled by some maniac, he could let his guard down going to take a piss and get stabbed in the back of the head, there were a million possibilities and here he was sulking because some fucking underwear model thought he was cute? No, fine, he could play that, he could _win_ that. 

He shifted himself over and sat on Chris’s lap so he was straddling him, facing him but still looking up at him; the top of his head only came to about his nose. Chris had the audacity to look startled by this new turn of events, wide-eyed and innocent, but obviously not complaining. They sized each other up for a moment, neither of them with any idea exactly what they were doing or why, but feeling the same way, like death was breathing down their necks, like this was the best thing that was going to happen to either of them until they met their maker. Should they be focusing on an escape plan? Yeah, probably. Should they be saving Waylon’s ass instead of fooling around like a couple of horny college kids? Definitely.

“…I’m going to kiss you,” Miles stated experimentally.

“Oo…better be good if it comes with an introduc-“ 

He shut him up by covering his mouth with his own, pushing himself up onto his knees slightly so that he could reach, and…ah…yes. It was warm and it was wet and if he was going to die then he could definitely, _definitely_ spare a moment for this. He groaned softly in his throat as he parted his lips further in response to feeling Chris’s hands clasp gently over the small of his back, pulling him just a bit closer. As the kiss became less exploratory and more enthusiastic Miles bridged the last inch or two between them and leaned softly against his chest, placing his hands firmly onto his shoulders to steady himself. He gasped softly, pulling back for just an instant to breathe, jesus christ he was a good kisser, before Chris caught his lips once more to end the unfortunate separation. Miles moaned in response and slid his hands up Chis’s neck to run them over the soft bristles of his hair as their tongues twined eagerly together. It was so good, such a dichotomy between absolute bliss and the worst human suffering the world had to offer all in one place. 

When they pulled back and Miles looked at him he could see that Chris was staring at him half-lidded and hazy with a gaze so sweet, so passionate, that it made his chest hurt and his insides melt. Jesus. He shouldn’t be looking at him like that, and Miles certainly shouldn’t have been looking back at him the same way. There was every chance in the world that Chris was just as crazy as the rest of them and that with every idiotic, school boy smile he brought himself closer to death’s door, but this…this was the best option he had and frankly, he wasn’t sure he cared so much about his survival anymore. He’d rather die a blissful idiot than a spend his last hours of life picking and choosing which blessings he should believe and which he should be wary of.

“…uh…I…” Miles began timidly as he found himself unable to break eye contact. Chris smiled softly at him, thinking that Miles had no idea what he’d done…the relief he’d given him. He could do anything if he could get someone like Miles to look at him like that, to be at a loss for words. He felt invincible. 

“Now…let’s go save your boyfriend,” Chris said playfully. 

Miles scoffed, but didn’t move at first, reluctant to get up. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he finally said as he held Chris’s shoulder for support and stood up, but he paused halfway in surprise as he felt Chris kiss his cheek and say with a smirk in his voice, 

“Good.”


	2. One Little Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to how exactly Waylon started to give a damn about what happened to Eddie Gluskin, and then a flash forward to Chris and Miles' plan to rescue the bride.

Waylon did his best not to cower as Eddie approached him and ran the back of his hand over his cheek with an infatuated gaze…god, how did everything get this way? They were on their way out, everything would have been fine if him and Miles could have just made it to the exit, but then Eddie happened and ever since then things hadn’t been right. 

Maybe he should have just let Chris Walker and the Groom duke it out. With any luck they would have killed each other, but luck had absolutely _not_ been on his side thus far and he wasn’t about to risk both their lives on those odds. Still, he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing while Miles, who had just saved his butt by the way, remained cornered behind two grappling giants. He hadn’t been standing even a foot behind Chris when the fight broke out and could have easily been caught in the crossfire, especially if he decided to make a break for it which he definitely looked like he was about to do. 

And then…jesus, it was so crazy, how could he even think it, but, okay, maybe he was a _little_ bit worried about Eddie…maybe. That was absolutely ridiculous, of course it was, he was a disgusting, deplorable human being, a monster, a killer beyond compare and likely would be the cause of his sooner rather than later death, one of unimaginably unpleasant proportions, and…and yet he was afraid for him. Chris would utterly destroy him, Eddie was tough, fast, and smart, but Chris was tougher, bigger, and had more experience ripping people apart with his bare hands. 

More importantly, he was essentially going head to head with Chris Walker for his sake, to protect him. That was possibly the most idiotic thought he’d ever had, even compared to his decision to blow the whistle on this hell hole, but that’s what it felt like. That’s what it looked like, and maybe he wouldn’t have thought that if he hadn't seen Eddie Gluskin subjected to the morphogenic engine right before his eyes because of the coding that he’d designed and implemented…while he _begged_ him for help…but he felt sorry for him, felt guilty, nonetheless. So, while he hated Eddie’s guts, he maybe didn’t hate them quite as much as he thought he ought to. He’d been… _kind_ actually, so far. In fact he hadn’t tried to hurt him for most of the time that they’d been together. Was it so wrong that he didn’t want him to get hurt?

He knew it was suicide trying to get in between them. If he’d had any kind of survival instinct whatsoever he wouldn’t have even stayed to watch, he would have said to hell with Miles, he’ll be fine, and then turned on a dime and ran for his life. He couldn’t though. Maybe it would help Miles, maybe it would help Eddie, or maybe they were all about to die, but either way he couldn’t watch him and Chris tear each other apart. The only thing he could do was appeal to Eddie’s desire to protect him, even if that desire was focused on his own selfish, twisted means. Waylon’s touch, the reminder of his presence, was enough to talk Eddie down from violence, but before he realized what was happening Eddie had snatched him up and made his escape. He’d watched over his shoulder stricken with terror and dread as they left Miles for Chris Walker to deal with. God…he was dead, he knew he was dead.

As soon as they made it back to the female ward somewhat safe and somewhat sound Eddie seemed more relaxed. He carried him around for a while whistling until he realized that Waylon was…crying. What could his darling possibly have to cry about? He set him down and began checking him over with concern and a good measure of hesitation. He’d never been quite adept at dealing with a woman’s tears, especially when it came to a beautiful girl he loved with all his heart like his darling…frankly, it really freaked him out and he had no idea what to do. 

“Ah…darling,” he began gently, bringing Waylon back to the current moment as he reached out and brushed a tear away from his cheek. “What ever is the matter?” Waylon found it so hard to believe he would hurt him at moments like these when he looked at him like that, blue and bloody eyes shining with worry and what he suspected was genuine emotion somewhere inside his decaying and depraved mind. 

But Waylon had that thing where if he was upset, and people were nice to him, well, he’d cry, or in this case cry harder, and so he promptly burst into sobs that had his shoulders shaking and his chest heaving. Miles was dead, he had to be dead and he’d _left_ him there, after Miles had risked his life saving him from Gluskin’s table he’d returned the favor by leaving when he needed help the most. He was so weak. He couldn’t help anyone, he couldn’t even help himself. 

Eddie was panic stricken by this turn of events. He stared at Waylon with baffled discomfort, his pulse picking up as he quickly tried to think of a way to just get Waylon to stop crying. Waylon looked up at Eddie through tear-filled eyes as he handed him a surprisingly clean handkerchief from somewhere on his person. He wiped his face and heaved a shaky sigh, trying to compose himself. He was startled into calm as Eddie cupped his cheek in his hand and made him look at him. 

“Now, now, darling…everything’s alright, I’m here to take care of you…you’re not hurt, are you, darling?” Waylon shook his head and sniffled tearfully. “Then there’s no need to cry.” He pulled Waylon towards him and he struggled internally not to pull away as their lips met in a gentle kiss. He was repulsed and yet really…really there was nothing repulsive about it, I mean his breath wasn’t exactly minty fresh, but his lips were soft and warm and- OH DEAR GOD NO NOT AGAIN. 

He panicked a bit, suddenly pulling back as he realized his train of thought had taken a pleasant route that was not unfamiliar, and then stared up at Eddie fearfully as he scowled down at him. The air between them had abruptly become tense, but then just as suddenly the tension vanished all at once as Eddie smiled at him with a look of deep affection. 

“Oh, darling…you’re so pure…one of the many things I love so much about you, but don’t worry. I won’t take advantage of your innocence…” he smirked just a bit as he added teasingly “….yet…” 

Waylon face immediately erupted into a potent blush that made him feel flustered and hot, and that made Eddie’s smirk grow. He was so confused, Eddie was making him so confused, this was soooo not okay, holy shit, he was losing his mind! How…how could he be _so_ terrified and so…so _charmed_ at the same time? It wasn’t right! This wasn’t the first time he’d enjoyed Eddie’s ministrations and it was becoming a disturbing pattern.

Regardless of his confusion about his feelings towards Eddie, there was one thing he did know; he couldn’t tell him about Miles. He’d spent enough time in his company to realize that hinting at him having any kind of relationship, friendship, or acquaintanceship with anyone else in the asylum, or outside of the asylum, would likely result in his, and the other person’s, death. It wouldn’t help his situation or Miles’ in the least and so he’d just have to try to keep himself together and just hope for the best. Please be okay, Miles…

Now there was just the matter of how to deal with Eddie. His mind quickly went back over their previous encounters analytically as he searched for the safest way to move forward…

 

 

Part 1: Flashback

 

His lunges were gonna explode, oh my god, this was it, his lunges were going to explode and then Eddie was going to catch him and he was going to die, oh my god please no. He had to go just a little further, little more, little mo- 

He tried hiding in a locker so he could catch his breath. 

Eddie toyed with him for a while before finally opening the locker he was in, and having the audacity to act like he was surprised to see him in there…as if the son of a bitch hadn’t known he was in there the whole time, yeah right. What a fucking prick. He just wanted to mess with him, fuck Eddie, he was one fucked up son of a- his thoughts dissolved into panicked chaos as Eddie yanked him forward by the shirt and began dragging him along, back the way they’d come, oh god, please no…! 

He was undecided, as Eddie pulled him along, whether his strategy ought to be to struggle as hard as he possibly could, or cease his struggles all together and beg for his life. He settled on a shitty mix of both of them, half-heartedly squirming in his grasp so as to not tick him off, while gasping in a shaking, tear-filled voice, “Please, please, please…! Please, Eddie, _please_ don’t do this, please! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” He sobbed over and over. 

To his surprise, Eddie abruptly stopped and looked at him as he quivered and tried not to wet himself under his scrutiny. He took in Waylon’s pitiful appearance for a moment or two and then said pleasantly, “Have we met before? I know I’ve seen your face…maybe…just before I woke up…” Waylon nodded fervently and began to sob. 

“Yes, yes, Eddie…Eddie Gluskin…you remember me? I’m sorry, so sorry, I tried to save you, Eddie please don’t hurt me, I’m so sorry…!” He dissolved, dropping weakly to his knees. Half of him was crying because he didn’t want to die. The other half was crying because he thought he deserved to die after what he’d helped Murkoff do to these people…he really was sorry. He would never stop being sorry. He’d been the one to press the button to initiate Eddie’s fucked up ‘treatment’, and now he was going to die for it. He was going to pay for what he’d done and he deserved it and he knew it, he knew it, but god, please, please don’t…!

Perplexed by his odd behavior, Eddie examined him from above like a not-so-merciful god. Finally, he helped him forcefully to his feet and pushed him back into the wall as Waylon’s feet shuffled frantically across the floor. This was it, this was it…! He braced himself, but then Eddie was stepping back from him, letting him go. He stared up at him wide eyed and trembling as Eddie gave him a stern look. 

“Stay put, darling. I can’t have you running around in these filthy rags.”

Waylon nodded timidly and watched as he left through the only doorway in the room. He swallowed, gasping for breath as he waited in place, not moving an inch. What else could he do? Even if he ran Eddie would surely kill him the next time he caught him and although he knew what Eddie was capable of so far he just didn’t seem as unreasonable as the rumors he’d heard. Obviously he was out of his goddamned mind, and he knew he was a murderer of course, but he remembered him…Eddie remembered him, and he hadn’t severely injured him yet, so maybe, just maybe, he had a better sense of clarity than Waylon had initially thought he did. And perhaps Eddie being familiar with him from before all this happened…it could be the edge he needed to make it out of this. He could talk him down, he could-

Eddie reappeared quickly, enforcing for him that he’d made the right decision, despite the fact that it sounded ludicrous even in his own mind. There hadn’t been enough time and he definitely would have been caught if he’d tried to escape. Shivering violently in place as Eddie approached him, he saw that he held a startling beautiful white gown that seemed remarkably out of place in the asylum…sure, there was a little blood, a little dirt on it here and there, but there was near instantaneous recognition; it was his wedding gown, of course. He looked it over and then pulled his gaze back up to Eddie’s eyes as they watched for his reaction. Eddie was beaming, but he seemed…hesitant. Waiting for something. 

Oh, duh Waylon, you idiot. 

“I…I love it, Eddie…it’s…it’s perfect,” he stuttered, and then added to be a little more convincing, “It’s just what I always dreamed of wearing on.. on my wedding day.” Eddie’s gaze flickered with pride and loving devotion at Waylon’s words. 

“Oh….darling…I’m the happiest man on earth…” he sighed, as Waylon thought about how tragic that was. 

“Now let’s get you changed, we don’t have all day,” Eddie chided, sending a jolt of fear along Waylon’s spine as he briskly approached. I mean, technically they did have all day, but there wasn’t any need to go splitting hairs about it, not when splitting his skull might be the next thing on his mind…

Eddie waited, allowing him to undress himself. Maybe he said he wanted “a girl just like the girl that married dear old dad”, but Waylon had a hard time believing that as his skin tingled and burned with embarrassment under the intense scrutiny of Eddie’s gaze. Rude. So much for Eddie being a gentlemen. He scoffed a little bit softly as he took Miles’ jacket from around his waist, drawing Eddie’s attention as he analyzed his scowl with bewilderment. None of his romantic pursuits had ever dared to give him that sort of look. His darling was just full of surprises. 

“What’s the matter, darling?” he asked in a slightly harder tone than before.

“It’s not really polite to watch people when they’re undressing…especially a lady. I mean, we haven’t even had our first kiss yet.” As ridiculous as that sounded to his own ears, it made perfect sense for the situation. He was actually pretty peeved, for reasons he couldn’t even understand, but I mean operating under Eddie’s assumption that he _was_ a woman it was incredibly discourteous. 

Startled, Eddie blinked at him, and to Waylon’s astonishment, promptly turned around. 

“Oh…dear, of course, I’m awfully sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he muttered sheepishly. 

“Well, thank you, but come here now, I need your help getting into the dress,” Waylon ordered with a hint of amusement. 

“Yes, yes of course, Eddie you doofus,” he chuckled as he turned back around and held the dress out carefully for him to step into. Waylon did so, blushing as he held Eddie’s massive forearm for balance. This was so absurd, he was going to look like such an idiot. And what if it didn’t fit? Would Eddie be angry, blame him? He helped him into the dress and then stood behind him, humming cheerfully as he laced up the back with strong, experienced fingers. He must have worked in some sort of wedding or dress shop before all of this, there was no way he hadn’t, he was too skillful. Waylon doubted he could make anything himself that would look even remotely like clothing, let alone a wedding dress, and he certainly wouldn’t know how to do up the corset backing. 

Relief flooded him as he realized that somehow the dress fit him perfectly as if he were a real bride at her last fitting before the ceremony, realizing that months of dieting had paid off. Eddie fitted the veil to his head then stepped back to analyze the display. When all was said and done, Waylon spun around to face him feeling vulnerable and absolutely ludicrous. He must look like such a freak, if anyone saw him like this they would have to laugh at him, there was _no way_ Eddie would think…

“Darling,” he breathed in awe, “…you’re stunning…I knew you would be beautiful…”

Woah, well, he hadn’t been expecting that. Okay. Maybe a ‘it’ll have to do’ or a ‘it fits nicely’, but stunning? Waylon blushed violently and avoided Eddie’s eyes until he grasped his chin gently in his hand and pulled his gaze upward.

“You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, darling…you don’t have to hide yourself from me,” he murmured with such sincerity that Waylon was left intensely unsettled by the thrill of emotion it sent through him, although he was unsure what emotion it was exactly. How could he sound so genuine? His insanity must have gone so deep that he really believed Waylon was the love of his life. That didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind if he made one wrong move, but, well, he was pretty sure no one had ever been as in love with him as Eddie Gluskin thought he was. 

It was a…a nice thought, actually. He gave Eddie a slight smile despite feeling mortified and kinda violated. No one had ever told him he was “beautiful” before, and he found he didn’t mind it. Maybe he was losing his mind too, or maybe the groom really just was that charming. Still, he had a feeling none of his previous victims had anything even remotely akin to butterflies in their stomach, the keen bite of a blade perhaps, but not excitement. Not the fluttery, warm sensation of talking to your crush. Waylon was peculiar, he knew that, and he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by his strange paradox of emotions: always fearful, yet unafraid of things that would have terrified others, shy but daringly assertive when he had to be, but always holding an affinity for what others shied away from. It was his usual routine frankly, but this was a bit extreme. Ridiculous, actually. He would have laughed if he hadn’t been afraid Eddie would take offense.

“…thank you, Eddie,” he said finally. He winced a little nervously as Eddie held his cheek, stroking it softly with his thumb before pulling back. He could only imagine what Eddie might have in store for him next; he had to think of some way to stall and quickly before Eddie lost interest in their current activities. 

But before he could think of anything Eddie proceeded with a plan of his own. He moved towards him with such suddenness that Waylon yelped with fear as he snatched him up and carried him off bridal style toward an ominously unknown destination. Waylon, terrified and desperate, wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck imploringly. _Be cute, be sweet, I’m so cute and pretty please pleeeaasseee don’t cut my junk off, fuck fuck fuck…!_

“E-Eddie..? Wh-Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. God, that _cannot_ be good. He put his arms around his neck tighter and weakly allowed his head to lean forward so he could bury his face in his neck, not because he was trying to be convincingly pitiful but because he _was_ pitiful, he was scared out of his mind and what the hell could he do about it? He’d never felt like more of a damsel in distress in his whole life, no wonder Miles had felt like he had to rescue him. 

“Ah, my love, I know you’re as excited as I am…you’re not nervous, are you? It will be an intimate affair, just a handful of guests, so don’t be afraid.”

Bewildered, Waylon picked his head up and looked at him then look around and saw now that they were in…a chapel? No, a room made to look like a chapel. It _almost_ could have passed for the inside of a church, there was an altar and there were rows of seating that were made up of a mishmash of pews, desk chairs, folding chairs, and other random assortments neatly lined up for the ceremony. Hell, there were even a few variants tied up in some of the seats although one of them seemed to have been dead for quite some time, while another was whimpering and struggling feebly. Waylon was sure he was going to be sick right there as Eddie carried him down the aisle. This just wasn’t the sort of thing that should ever happen. It was an absolute desecration of one of life’s most precious moments. He glanced up, his vision spinning as he noticed strips of sheets and clothing Eddie had tied together to hang overhead as decorations.

Eddie set him down at the front of the room and stood facing him, taking no notice of the fact that Waylon was actively trying not to faint as his eyes fell on Father Martin’s nearly fleshless, charred corpse. It was still nailed to the massive wooden cross he had been burned on, only now it had been moved to where it now stood behind the altar. Clearly his corpse had been tied more securely to the spot posthumously as the thick rope was sitting against his mangled flesh rather than melted to it or burned away from it completely. Eddie seemed to think that this corpse was the entity that would make their union official. It was disturbing how thorough he had been in executing the perfect wedding just for it to turn out to be such an abomination. He wondered what it felt like from Eddie’s point of view, as he certainly seemed genuinely happy; did he really feel like it was his wedding day? Did he feel no grain of the overwhelming horror that he felt? The sight of Eddie standing before him, smiling happily at him, swam in his vision and he struggled to take deep, calm breaths and stay conscious. _You can do this, Waylon, you can do this…!_

Miles wasn’t going to be saving him this time. All he could do was wait and listen for his chance to say ‘I do’. Once Eddie said it he responded in turn and then trembled as Eddie leaned in, took his face in his hand and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. Waylon kissed him back as genuinely as he could and then gasped with surprise as Eddie scooped him up in his arms and carried him bridal style back down the aisle. He was secretly thankful for this, as his legs felt a little wobbly and he wasn’t so confident in his ability to walk in a straight line at present. He heard muffled screaming from one of the variants behind them as they left the chapel.

Whenever someone thinks of a wedding they typically think of the wedding ceremony itself. That was the only thing Waylon really thought of, having never actually been to a wedding, and so he was surprised by Eddie’s thorough planning when it came time for, of course…the reception. 

At first he didn’t realize what was happening. They came to a large empty room in which all the sewing machines had been cleared away, lined neatly along the wall. There were a few tables placed here and there, the lighting was dim, in fact the only light was the moonlight that poured in from outside through the grimy windows. All was silent as the grave. It was almost peaceful, but Waylon hadn’t yet wrapped his mind around what was in store until Eddie set him down and went over to the little radio that sat nearby. He turned it on, and the gentle sound of his favorite song filled the room. 

He watched as Eddie came over to him and, ever the gentlemen, offered him his hand. Of course, Waylon thought, duh. The first dance. Their debut as man and wife. Waylon sighed, smiled half-heartedly, and took Eddie’s hand, not just because he had to but because…it was such an innocent wish, to dance with the person of your dreams on your wedding day. He couldn’t deny him this small happiness. In this land of chaos and fear, death and misery, it was absurd that the two of them were here, swaying in the moonlight as Eddie held him close, his hand on his hip as he lead him in a leisurely waltz. It was a moment of quiet and calmness for them both. Him, the Whistleblower, and the Groom, the monster notorious for slaughtering the asylum’s men at a feverish pace, dancing together to a song that might as well have been floating off of an old record. For the moment Eddie seemed so content, so blissfully unaware of what he really was, so genuinely at ease that Waylon couldn’t help but feel at ease too. Eddie gazed at him with an adoring smile that nearly made Waylon forget altogether that he was supposed to be afraid. 

“I love you so, darling,” Eddie murmured, and Waylon could feel the warmth of his breath on his face, reminding him of just how close they were standing. In another world, he thought he could have loved Eddie. He could feel the weight of what they could have been looming over him like a ghost. Eddie was many things, not all of them bad. He was clearly intelligent, stunningly handsome, charming and passionate, he was just…also a psychotic killer. Waylon couldn’t ignore that, but he found that he couldn’t ignore the things he could have loved about Eddie either. That was why it didn’t feel quite so forced as it probably should have for him to say the words back to him. 

“I love you too, Eddie,” he said quietly. He felt guilty for setting him up for what would ultimately be a cruel betrayal, but if he wanted to keep himself in one piece it was in his best interest to play along as best he could. And, honestly, he didn’t know what horrors lay in store for either of them, but he could as least make him happy while he had the chance, almost…an apology that he hadn’t been able to get to Eddie sooner. That he couldn’t save him. 

And then Eddie kissed him, and he wasn’t ashamed in that moment for _wanting_ to kiss him back. 

Waylon lost track of time. It could have been hours, it could have been minutes until finally the music stopped as the track ran out. The silence seeped back into his soul as reality slowly came creeping back into his awareness. 

He wanted to believe that Eddie wouldn’t hurt him, but he couldn’t, and so he was immediately struck with a sharp pang of fear as Eddie took his hand and began leading him from the room. The closer they got to the moment of the “honeymoon”, the less time Waylon had, likely, to live. He was fairly certain there would be no wedding night that included all his pieces in their rightful places. 

“Eddie? Where are we going?” he asked timidly as he lead him out into the hall. His stomach did an oddly pleasant backflip at the smirk Eddie tossed him mischievously over his shoulder. 

“I think you know what comes next, darling,” Eddie teased in a lustful undertone, making Waylon insides squirm and his face blossom with heat. 

“I…I don’t think…Eddie, wait, I…” he stuttered, desperately trying to come up with a way to stall further. Suddenly, Eddie spun around and caged him there against the wall between his two muscular arms, blocking him in. Waylon flattened himself back against the wall instinctively in terror, but his feelings on the matter quick began to morph into something distinctly different as Eddie leaned in towards him, staring down at him like he wanted to eat him alive. His body was betraying him, responding to Eddie’s advances with fantastic enthusiasm that he just couldn’t morally or rationally justify. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead he found that Eddie was leaning in, covering his mouth with his and kissing him deeply as his tongue slipped between his parted lips. Any thoughts of speech left him as their bodies pressed together and he found himself kissing him back, willing, _eager_. Adrenaline coursed through him, fueling his excitement and that was when he realized that this was the best kiss he’d ever had. It was warm and passionate and overwhelming; by the time Eddie pulled back they were both panting and he was already thinking about the next kiss, about the feeling of Eddie’s tongue pressing hungrily into his mouth. Whatever would come after, first he wanted another kiss. 

“Hey douchebag, get the fuck off him!”

The recognition of who was yelling at them was slow, but when it hit him finally it was at full force. Miles. A quick succession of emotions: shock, relief, and then… fear. 

Eddie had already spun around and was barreling towards him down the hallway. Miles took off at a sprint with Eddie hot on his tail as Waylon hiked up his skirts and followed. 

 

——————

 

That was how he’d gotten himself into this mess in the first place. Now maybe, just maybe, with even a fraction of as much good luck as he’d had thus far, he could still find Miles and get out of this place. But first…there was the matter of Eddie.

 

 

 

Part 2: Rescue Mission

 

During their search for Waylon and the groom, Miles kept a watchful eye out for any medical supplies whatsoever, hell, even a bandaid. Chris was acting pretty tough about his injury, even for a marine, but he was still bleeding with every just slightly careless movement and it had Miles worried. Primarily his concern was simply for Chris’s sake, but there was also the fact that he needed him for protection. Before he’d known Chris Walker was on his side he never would have had the extra attention to lend to finding a first aid kit; every scrap of thought was simply dedicated to survival first and foremost, and secondarily escape. Having a second set of eyes to watch your back was an indispensable resource without even considering those eyes belonged to the Incredible Hulk. 

A half an hour had gone by and they hadn’t seen any sign of the happy couple. They were sidetracked continuously by dead ends, variants, and routes that weren’t available to someone Chris’s size. Miles never realized how much his slender build contributed to his methods for survival in this place. How many times had he slipped between a barricade of debris or up into the vents to escape the reaching hands of a variant? He wasn’t a fighter and he wasn’t too strong, but he was small and quick and up until now that had come in handy.

It did come in handy again when it came to finally locating the medical supplies they’d been searching for. They stopped beside a large metal bookshelf that had been knocked diagonally on top of a pile of rubbish when Miles noticed that the wreckage was covering up a door. Chris easily barreled the shelf over, leaving the way clear for Miles to climb over the remaining rubble and through the doorway. Once he had the door open far away enough, he slipped inside and activated the night vision on his camera. It was just a storage closet, but that was perfect. Pristine and untouched by raiders and variants alike, he found a radio which he immediately wrestled the batteries from, shoving them in his pants pocket, and there on the wall hung a first aid kit. Bingo. 

He pushed the red box out of the closet, sending it tumbling down the pile blocking him in, then proceeded to pull himself back out into the hall where Chris stood waiting. Chris saw Miles shimmying out of the closet and decided to give him a hand, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him out into the open air. Miles let out a cry of surprise and gripped onto him for balance once he’d roughly set him back down on the floor. He laughed breathlessly and grinned up at him in mild annoyance. 

“Jesus…” he panted. “Uh, thanks, yah frickin’ beast…” He picked up the kit and started going through it as he plopped down onto the dirty floor, sitting criss-cross apple sauce. “Come ‘ere, I’m gonna fix you up, come, sit.”

Chris did as he was told with his typical mild expression. “You make a pretty little nurse.” 

“Hey,” Miles pointed at him accusingly. He held the pause dramatically. “...shut up.” He continued rummaging through the first aid supplies now at their disposal. “Ain’t takin’ none of that sass…seriously…alright, cool, okay so I’m going to use these,” he stated as he held up a couple of antiseptic wipes, “And these.” He held up a large gauze pad and some medical tape. 

“Cool,” Chris mumbled and pulled up his shirt. “Knock yourself out.”

Chris seemed totally nonplussed as Miles cleaned the gashes on his chest, and so Miles winced for him. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” he muttered, impressed. He paused and sighed, letting the skin air dry before attempting to stick the bandage over it. He glanced up at Chris, and remembered not so long ago when they’d sat like this briefly before sucking face. Wow, talk about desperate, Miles thought. I mean, he hadn’t been single for _that_ long, and anyway it didn’t matter, really, it was just a kiss. It wasn’t a big deal, it’s not like he had real feelings for the guy or anything, he was just…cute, and big, and had nice eyes, and…you get the picture. 

And of course, there was the all-encompassing madness that encroached on his thoughts with every passing second like an infectious disease swimming in his blood, leaving reality nothing more than a word.

“You can do it again, I don’t mind,” Chris said with a smirk as if reading his thoughts. 

Miles narrowed his eyes at him. “You talk a lot of shit for a murderous homo tank.”

Chris laughed heartily at that, which made Miles smile down at his lap a little. He glanced up at him, glancing over his other wounds, and the expanse of his bare stomach. He was somewhat chubby, but under that he was one hundred percent muscle, which was clearly evident. His physique was the opposite of Miles’ actually; maybe that was why he was so attracted to it. He was just so…thick. 

Oh my god. He scolded his mind into silence and rolled his eyes at himself. Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous. Apparently imminent death made him horny. He'd heard that about life or death situations, about how quickly they made you bond with fellow survivors in those final moments and how it was times like these that bound people together for the rest of their lives. Because no matter what, no one else in the world would be able to understand what you went through except for the people that were there to go through it too.

He got back to work applying the bandages as he heaved a sigh. Chris watched him evenly. 

“…don’t worry. We’ll find your friend.”

“…yeah, I know…I’m more worried about whether or not we’ll find him in one piece…”

He’d have to agree with that sentiment. The Groom so far hadn’t proven himself to be the type to keep prisoners. He worked through his victims pretty quickly, Chris had noticed. He decided to keep that observation to himself though.

“So what’s with the camera?” He jerked his head towards the camcorder. 

He glanced at it. “…oh. I came here to expose Murkoff’s fetid underbelly and collect evidence they wouldn’t be able to bury under all their money…you know what they say, you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself…”

Chris nodded appreciatively. “That’s very noble.” 

“Nah…”

“And…Waylon. He was your whistleblower?”

“Yup. Now there’s a brave kid. Causing trouble even when he knows he’s trapped in the belly of the beast…my first thought was that he was either very brave or very stupid…but I realized that it’s not either. He’s smart, really smart. And brave, I don’t know, when he has to be, but he’s not exactly a knight in shining armor. It’s not about being brave, it’s about being a good guy…just a genuinely good person trying to do the right thing.” He paused, then continued in a low voice, “That’s what it always comes down to with these things…the greatest evils are defeated by the smallest of good deeds. It just took one guy doing the right thing to bring the whole mountain down on top of itself…the least I could do was come and bear witness to it.”

As Chris listened to him talk, his eyes softened reverently. “Mount Massive Asylum is the most sordid, rotten nest of sin I have ever seen in my whole life…so much suffering and chaos…but it had to go out this way, like a demon struggling in the hand of God.”

“I’m not religious, but that imagery is pretty spot-on. It’s going out with a bang, and that’s about all it can do. And then it’ll be over, it’s as simple as that.” Miles sighed as he pulled back and looked over his work. “There…” He looked up at him. “Sorry, that had to hurt.”

Chris made a face of disgust. “As long as it doesn’t get infected I don’t care what it feels like. That’d be a rotten way to go.”

“Sure would.” Miles stood, and mostly for the comic relief of it offered Chris a hand up. He took it with a chuckle as he stood, muttering his thanks. 

They continued on their way, using their combined knowledge of the complex to make their way towards the female ward where Eddie and Waylon were bound to be. Between the two of them they were able to make their way to it within the hour, much better than Miles had expected. He’d found his way there only once before, but with the broken elevator and all the dead ends it hadn't been easy. Now without even the vents the task was harder than ever. He knew they were on the right track though when he found…

“My jacket!” he breathed excitedly as he jogged over to it and snatched it up off the floor. Waylon had been wearing it when they’d first been separated, but the next time he’d seen him he’d been in a wedding dress. Miles through the jacket on excitedly. It was his favorite piece of clothing, it had sentimental value and he was more unhappy about losing it than he cared to admit. 

“Sorry I nabbed your shirt,” Chris said with a frown. 

“Nah, it’s okay…least now I’m not nekkid.” He brushed some dirt off of it then took the batteries from his pants pocket and zipped them into his jacket. “Alright, we must be getting close then. Waylon was wearing this before he had his little gown fitting so this must be where he got dressed. Who knows where they are now, but it can’t be too far.”

They carried on the search as Miles wondered what exactly they were going to do when they got there. Their best bet would be to sneak up on them, snatch Waylon when the groom wasn’t looking, and then book it…it wasn’t the best plan, but Miles didn’t want another battle of the giants. Apparently Eddie Gluskin and Chris Walker were a fair match, which made sense given that they were two of only a select few survivors. Either they’d simply avoided each other until now or it was their first face off in which either of them had gotten into it enough to land a blow, forced into a corner as they were by protecting their respective men. 

And then there was the matter of the morphogenic engine that Chris claimed had infected him beyond saving. It sounded like he didn’t plan on making it out of here alive, but if he was “infected” then so was Waylon. Not only that, but as much as Miles didn’t want to admit it he couldn’t deny that he’d seen…something…a phantasmic figure, dark but definitive in shape, looming through the halls of the asylum. He’d already seen it twice, and that wasn’t even counting all the occasions in which he’d thought _maybe_ he’d seen _something_ but nah, he was probably just imagining things. Now he knew that he hadn’t been after all and if Chris was a goner than hell, they probably all were. 

For the time being, he’d have to put all of that aside. He didn’t like to make a habit of worrying over things he couldn’t do anything about either way. All he could do was focus on the task at hand. One disaster at a time.

Chris was against the idea of splitting up from the second Miles suggested it. 

“Are you kidding? You’re puny. Eddie would snap you like a twig if you barreled in there and he got ahold of you.”

“Ha ha,” he said sardonically. “I know, but I don’t want another showdown anymore than you do-”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’d crush his head like a grape and then we’d have nothing to worry about.” 

Jesus christ. Miles couldn’t help but grin. “Okaaay, but you’re already injured and Eddie probably already knows we’re coming for him. He’ll be ready, and you won’t be any good to anybody if you get hurt any worse than you already are. So, just…relax. I can fit into spaces you can’t, I’m just gonna crawl up into the vents and see what I can see. Then I’ll report back.”

“Report back. Or by report back do you mean, sneak in there and try to steal the bride out from under his nose and then come back and let me know when it’s all over IF you survive.”

“….yeah, definitely the second one.” 

Chris stared at him for a long moment or two, reluctant, but finally let it go. It was their best option. He sighed heavily and gestured for Miles to come closer. “Alright. Come here, I’ll give you a boost up to the vent.”

Miles grinned at him playfully. “There we go, it’ll be fine, really. Up we go,” he said as Chris hauled him into the air, but paused as he held him about the legs, ready to push him up, and yet stalling. Miles looked at him curiously, sighed quietly, and then leaned down and kissed him softly. They held the kiss as long as they reasonably could, both thinking that it could very easily be the last time they’d be kissing anybody. 

When they at last parted, though minimally, Miles looked back at him with a sudden sense of regret. “I wish I’d known you on the outside…that it didn’t have to be this way.” 

“Well as long as I’ve got you now I’m going to take you for everything you’re worth.”

He couldn’t help but smile back in response to that. “Still a ripoff, but…yeah. Agreed. Same to you.” He patted Chris’s head playfully, mostly just for a reason to touch what little blonde hair he had on his head. “Don’t you die while I’m gone.”

“Yeah right, I’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about. You’re reckless…you’ve got a hero complex. It’s going to get you into trouble…more trouble. Quit while you’re ahead, do what you can…and don’t get yourself killed.” He paused. “Things are a lot more interesting…better… when you’re around. So I need you here. Got it?”

Miles looked into his eyes gently with complete understanding. Being alone in this place was unbearable. “Got it.” He rubbed his hand over his hair a few times, stalling, then sighed. “Alright. Beam me up, Scotty.”

Chris smiled just slightly, humoring him, and then put his hand under his butt as he lifted him up towards the ceiling, enabling Miles to easily access the open vent. He climbed inside and Chris could hear his voice echo in the metallic space. “Hey. Don’t think I didn’t catch that cop a feel shit.” Chris laughed lightly then listened as Miles shimmied his way across the ceiling until he was gone somewhere he couldn’t follow. 

“You better be alright, kid…” he muttered to himself under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update this, but I was really inspired so I knew I would eventually. Now I feel like we can get more cute since our couples have had a little time to warm up to each other, so from here on out let's cram a little more smut and fluff in there. 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
